


The Interpretation of Art

by Lysandra_Lewis



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Artist Dean, Boys Kissing, Cute, Destiel - Freeform, Fluff, HS AU, Kissing, M/M, My First Destiel Fanfic, One Shot, Plot, Sweet, Writer Castiel, art class, idk what else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-11
Updated: 2014-09-11
Packaged: 2018-02-16 23:51:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2289251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lysandra_Lewis/pseuds/Lysandra_Lewis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Senior art student Dean Winchester likes staying behind after school to work on his paintings. A surprise visit by the guy he has a crush on, Castiel Novak, has Dean admitting a lot of things; including the inspiration behind his beautiful art.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Interpretation of Art

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fanfic that I've actually managed to finish so I hope you all like it. Un-beta'd so any mistakes are mine.
> 
> Also, you can go check out my tumblr at ithinkthiswasabadidea.tumblr

Dean had been working on his major art piece for months, it was a painstakingly long process with so many details to fill in that he had to stay behind at school some afternoons, just to have enough time to complete his work. He didn't mind doing this and he was very proud of his final piece, it was mostly turning out as he had planned. Dean sighed softly as he set his thin paintbrush next to the easel he sat in front of, looking up at the second of the two large canvases he had been working on.

The first painting was finished, and full of green paint in thick, jagged stripes across the canvas, creating a forest of shifting and blending green tones. There was emerald green, hunter, jade, olive, sea green, shot through with flecks of molten gold. On the right side of the canvas, there were specks and streaks of a deep blue, adding a calming element to the hectic greens. The second painting was a myriad of blue swirls. Blues as light as the sky, to inky indigo filled the canvas. There was cobalt, sapphire, azure and cerulean colours twirling around the canvas in light brushstrokes, contrasting strangely yet complimentary to the first painting. There were small speckles of light grey intertwined with the beautiful blue swirls, like stars in a galaxy.

Dean was on the home stretch with the second painting, he had begun to add thin veins of a golden-green colour onto the left side of the canvas, yet he felt like the colours weren’t connecting as well as they had in the first. The green was too bright, yet the colours didn’t stand out from the shadows of the blue as well as they should, it looked out of place. The painting just seemed to lack a certain spark. Another light sigh escaped from Dean and he ran a hand through his light brown hair, leaving little flecks of green paint in it. He leant backwards on his stool to stretch his aching back and stared at the ceiling, trying to think of a way he could get the concept of his art to work again.

“Are the paints being uncooperative for you?” asked a deep voice threaded with amusement from the doorway of the art room.

Startled, Dean let out a short yelp before his stool overbalanced and landed him promptly onto the floor that was covered with dry paint splatters.

“Oh! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you Dean! Are you okay?” exclaimed the boy as he rushed over to where Dean was still sprawled on the floor, staring up at him.

“I-It’s fine.” Replied Dean, as the other boy gently grabbed his hands and hauled him off the floor. As Dean became vertical once again, he found he was face to face with none other than Castiel Novak.

Castiel was in the same year as Dean, but the only class they shared was English, in which Dean relished the opportunities he got to hear Cas’ deep mellow voice recite Shakespeare or read out his work as an example to the class. So yeah, Dean might’ve had a bit of a crush on Cas. Ok, scratch that, it was a huge crush. It was nearing the end of their senior year and Dean had almost given up hope of even telling Cas about his feelings for him. Of course, the only thing he got in return from Cas were those deep stares where both teens would make eye contact and be forced to have an impromptu staring competition that Dean would always have to tear his eyes away first. Dean never quite understood what the staring meant. He had hoped it would lead to a conversation with the blue eyed boy, but they had hardly spoken to each other during the year until Cas scared Dean off his stool.

Regaining his voice, Dean frowned a little, looking at Cas as if he wasn’t sure he was really in front of him. “Cas. What are you doing here? It’s almost 5pm on a Friday afternoon.” He asked somewhat accusingly. He wasn’t used to anyone but the art teacher, Mrs Harvelle, interrupting his afternoon painting sessions.

“I um… I was studying in the library and I was just starting to walk home, but uh, as you can hear, it started pissing down rain out there and no one was able to pick me up. I was going to go back to the library and wait for the rain to ease up, but, well the art room was the closest room open so I thought I’d duck in here. I haven’t been in for ages actually.” Now that Dean was properly looking at Castiel, he could see water droplets sticking to his messy black hair and dropping onto his black jacket.

“Actually, I had no idea it was raining. I’ve just been a bit preoccupied to notice I guess,” Dean chuckled nervously, running a hand through his hair again, making it ruffled more. Cas’ eyes subconsciously tracked the movement and Dean let his hand fall away, avoiding his eye so as not to have yet another staring contest with Castiel.

“So are the paints uncooperative or are you out of inspiration?” asked Cas again, as he tried to lean over Dean’s shoulder to look at his painting. Dean could immediately feel the warmth of Castiel being so close to him, and he would’ve liked it, welcomed it, had he not been concerned for his art.

“Uh, it’s not quite ready for viewing yet.” Castiel took a step back, seeing the nervous glances Dean shot back and forth between him and the canvas that was turned away from his sight.

“But, to answer your question, I suppose it’s the latter,” Dean smiled ruefully at Cas.

“What is it you’re painting Dean?” asked Cas, his warm voice echoing around the classroom that was full of bits and pieces of artistic creation.

“Well it’s my final work, it counts for half of my grade for senior art this year. Do you… Do you want to see the piece that I have finished?” Dean asked tentatively, glancing back at Castiel who nodded his head vehemently and gave an encouraging smile.

“Ok, well, uh,” Dean stuttered as he led Castiel to the other side of the room where his first canvas, the green one, was propped against an easel. He gently threw off the sheet covering it, letting it billow to the ground as he stepped back. Dean liked this piece, and he hoped Castiel might appreciate it too. As Dean looked back at Cas, he was struck for a moment at the look of pure joy and wonder he saw in Cas’s face. The boy stood staring at the piece of art and Dean stood staring at Cas, watching his face, his eyes, his mouth, his expressions, as he took in the aspects of Dean’s work.

“Dean… This is beautiful,” said Cas softly, as his eyes continued to roam over the green painting. “It reminds me of something; something loved and treasured… but I can’t put my finger on it. What does it mean?” he asked suddenly, whirling on Dean.

“Well, that’s a little more difficult to explain.” Because Dean really would rather not share this with Cas, because it was a deeply personal response. But it was Cas who seemed more interested in his art than any of his friends and who was looking at it with almost as much passion as Dean had while he had painted it.

Cas looked expectantly at Dean, waiting for him to begin his explanation. “Ok, so, I’m doing two paintings. I called my piece for this year ‘Eyes: The Windows to a Person’s Soul’. The colours kind of represent those in the iris, and the brush strokes symbolize emotion. Because a person’s eyes show the most emotion. I-I know, it sounds kinda corny-”

“No, no, Dean. It doesn’t sound corny at all,” Cas smiled at him shyly. “It’s really a lovely idea. Go on, please?”

“Well this one is showing passion and desire, and um.. Love. That’s why the brushstrokes are really rapid and spikey. Cause’, you know, you can’t really control yourself or your emotions when you’re in love. And you can tell when a person is in love; you see it in their eyes.”

“Yeah,” Cas breathed, glancing back at Dean. “I totally understand that, I can see how it’s working too. Does the blue mean anything different?”

“While the green represents the person in love, the blue is the person being loved. It’s supposed to match my other work.”

“The one you won’t let me see because it isn’t finished?” Cas teased, a grin creeping across his face.

It was that smile and the intense look on Cas’ face that made Dean throw his hands up in defeat and roll his eyes at the other boy. “Fine! I’ll let you look! You’re too damn persuasive to say no to for long.”

“But all I did was grin at you.” Said Cas, not without some confusion.

“Exactly,” muttered Dean under his breath as he quickly turned and led the way back to his second painting and to hide the faint blush spreading across his cheeks at Cas’ words. Reaching his blue painting, Dean quickly moved his stool so Cas could stand next to him in front of the canvas. He felt Cas go still at his side when he got a good look at the swirls of blue spreading across the canvas.

“Dean, really, these paintings are amazing. They’re so full of energy and emotion. I don’t know where to look. This one looks finished to me, though.”

“You see the green streaks on this side?” Asked Dean, pointing to the thin green veins on the left of the painting, “They aren’t working for me. I’m not sure how to explain it, but they just don’t sit right with the rest of the painting.”

“Is it like when you’re writing a sentence and there’s just one word that doesn’t fit in, it’s almost right, but not quite? It’s the wrong context to what you’re writing?”

Dean chuckled, “Yeah like that. I doubt that’d happen to you though, you’ve been top of English, for what, three years in a row now?”

“Yeah, actually I am. You remembered that?”

“Well, uh-”

“And actually, just because I’m top of the class, doesn’t mean I don’t have trouble with it now and again.” Said Castiel, somewhat testily. “I often struggle with creative writing or poetry. It’s difficult to express my thoughts into words sometimes. But it seems like you can do that with such ease in your paintings. Will you finish telling me about this one?” He asked, nodding at the blue painting again.

“It’s meant to have the same theme as the other one. This blue is the same colour as the small blue stripes in the green one. But this one shows the blue as a person who has a lot of emotions, all swirling with energy and freedom, never stopping or resting, but always with that same kind of, well, love and passion as that in the green painting.”

Castiel stopped and thought about Dean’s last comment for a while. There had been a question niggling at the back of his mind since Dean had explained the first painting.  
“Dean, is your first painting the same green as the colours in your own eyes?” he blurted out suddenly. He thought he had made a mistake and was about to apologise when Dean suddenly looked away from him, a red flush creeping up the back of his neck. “Dean?” he asked hesitantly.

Dean cleared his throat before he answered Castiel timidly, “It is. I mean, the colours, they are the same as the ones in my own eyes.”

“Oh.” Replied Castiel simply as he processed this new information. His brain whirring furiously as he put the pieces together. If Dean had made the painting after his own eye colours, then there was a good chance that the inspiration behind the painting was a personal response. That the rapid brushstrokes depicted Dean’s own emotions of desire and love, those damn near uncontrollable human feelings. He looked back at Dean, seeing his eyes alight with a glorious green fire and could feel in his gut that his assumptions were correct.

It was pure creative genius, Cas could tell. _But if the green painting represents Dean’s feelings, then who does the blue painting symbolize?_ He thought. And finally the last pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. The blue, the green, the long stares they would share occasionally. Cas looked back up to the blue canvas in front of him and felt as if someone had started squeezing his lungs. The cobalt and sapphire blues of the painting mirrored those in his own eyes. All the detail was there, right down to the light grey flecks. Castiel was in disbelief. _It can’t be me. There’s no way Dean would feel like that about me, of all people. There’s the art teacher’s daughter, Jo; now she has blue eyes, maybe it’s her, or it could be…_ His thoughts trailed off as Dean turned back to face him, looking him straight in the eyes.

“Cas.”

“Dean?” He had to ask. He had to know if Dean Winchester really had those feelings about him. “Dean, who’s eyes did you use as the inspiration for your blue painting?”

Dean took a deep breath. It was now or never, he figured. Better to tell Cas and get rejected. If that happened, then he could concentrate more on his school work rather than pining all day over the raven haired boy in his English class. He looked straight at Castiel and confessed. “Yours, Cas. I used the colours in your eyes for the blue painting. And I did it because I like you. I've liked you for years. I just never had the courage to say anything because I thought you’d never like me back the same way. When we would stare at each other, I wished I could've held your gaze longer, but I was just scared about what you’d think of me.”

After his short speech, Castiel was slightly dumbstruck. He had been sure, so sure that Dean was straight, that his crush on the emerald-eyed artist was unrequited. He mentally groaned at his stupidity, kicking himself because it turned out that Dean actually _like_ liked him.

“Dean.” Castiel started, “Dean, I’ve been so stupid. You have no idea how many times over the past few years I’ve almost slipped a note into your locker to ask you out, but I didn’t think you liked me! I always thought you would look away because you were uncomfortable. Dammit, I spent too much time this year with my head in books rather than trying to talk to you, and God, don’t I regret it now.”

“Wait, are you actually saying that you… like me back?” asked Dean, wincing slightly as if he couldn’t believe that what Castiel said was true, and was waiting for the impact blow of Castiel laughing and telling him it was all a joke. But Cas didn’t.

“Yeah Dean, I like you.” Cas said, with a smile that lit up his dazzling azure eyes.

And it was in that moment, as the muted light coming through the windows of the art room caught in Cas’ eyes, that Dean saw raw emotion and desire and adoration. The  
passions which he had lacked while finishing his painting.

“Dean?” Castiel asked breathlessly, blatantly staring at the other boy.

“Yeah Cas?”

“Can I… I mean, would it be alright if I… If I kissed you now?”

Dean, while still staring at Castiel, nodded his head almost imperceptibly. Cas lifted his hands to the sides of Dean’s face, running his smooth thumbs gently across the other boys cheekbones, Dean’s eyelashes fluttering in nervous anticipation. They stood face to face, the same height. Perfect; like they were made to be in this position. Cas tilted his head to the left as he moved closer, his eyes shutting at the last moment. And then their lips came together. It was a soft first kiss, Cas’ slightly chapped lips brushing with a faint pressure against Dean’s full lips.

It was Dean who surprised Castiel when he started responding, his lips moving against Cas’, putting more pressure on them to deepen the kiss. One of Dean’s hands came up to the back of Castiel’s neck, the other snaking around his waist and pulling him closer so their bodies were almost flush. Dean, who previously had a small amount of experience in kissing, adventured further. Opening his lips a little, he used the tip of his tongue to lightly drag across Cas’ bottom lip, startling a slight gasp out of the other boy. They broke apart for long enough to take a breath of air before Castiel swooped back in to kiss Dean.

Dean continued to brush his tongue along the outline of Cas’ lips. When he had made a full sweep, Cas finally accepted his invitation and parted his lips, one hand moving to Deans hair. Dean took his own sweet time exploring Cas’ mouth, running his tongue gently over his teeth, along the inside of his lips, causing Cas to shiver in his arms. By then, Cas was done with Dean leading, and as soon as Dean had his tongue back in his own mouth, Cas bit down gently on Dean’s lower lip and tugged a little, eliciting a near moan from Dean.

As Cas carded his fingers through Dean’s hair, their kiss became more frantic, as if neither boy could taste or get enough of the other. If their gasps for breath were anything to go by, they seemed to be thoroughly enjoying their intense first kiss. It was the need to breathe that caused them to break away, chests heaving as they stood in each other’s arms, once again staring deeply into each other’s eyes.

“Dean.” Cas mumbled.

“Yeah?”

“That was…”

“Yeah, I know. Me too.”

Neither Dean nor Cas was able to form a coherent sentence at this point. Cas was still running his fingers lightly through Dean’s hair, mussing it up and causing it to stick out at strange angles. Dean tugged gently with the arm around Cas’ waist and pressed a chaste kiss to Cas’ reddened lips, running his tongue over them one more time to soothe them, and bring both boys back to earth.

“I’m glad I told you Cas. So glad. I couldn’t have ever imagined it would happen like this, but I can’t think of a better way for it to happen.” Dean whispered softly into Cas’ neck, causing Cas to shudder at the warm breath next to his ear.

“I just wish it had happened sooner.” Castiel whispered back, pressing his lips to Dean’s temple and lightly massaging his neck with the hand that wasn’t around Dean.

“Does this mean... I guess we’re… What I’m trying to say here is, do you want to be my boyfriend Castiel?” asked Dean, drawing back to look Cas in the eye again.

“Yes Dean, I would love to be your boyfriend.” Cas grinned, “I’ve been wanting to hear you say that for years.”

“We’re idiots aren’t we?”

“Yeah, we kinda are.” Chuckled Cas, squeezing his arms around Dean.

“Cas, you know how I said the greens on this painting didn’t quite work for me? That they didn’t sit right?” asked Dean, motioning to the canvas next to them.

“Yes, I remember that Dean.” Replied Cas, with his arms still around Dean.

“I know how to fix them now. Because I’ve seen the light and life and passion in your eyes that I needed to add. And you kind of have to let me go now so I can fix it.”

“Oh! Of course Dean!” Castiel unwrapped his arms with a smile, letting Dean go. “Can I… Would you mind if I watched you paint?”

“Sure you can watch, Cas,” said Dean as he moved his stool back in front of the bright blue painting. “I’m not sure how long this will take, though. It’s almost five-thirty now and Mrs Harvelle lets me stay till about six-thirty. Do you want me to give you a lift home?”

Dean offering anyone a ride in the car he called his ‘Baby’ was almost unheard of, except for his younger brother, Sam. “Really? Would that be any trouble?” Cas asked uncertainly.

“Not at all. You’re my boyfriend now, you get that kind of privilege.” Dean threw a wink at Castiel and picked up his paintbrush, mixing green paints on a pallet. Cas drew up a chair next to him and sat back to watch the brilliant artist. _My brilliant artist_ , he thought. The one who may not have the right words to say at the right time, but could show it so much better in his art.

 

Six-thirty rolled around and Dean had finally finished his artworks, an exhausted cheer from both boys resonating around the art room. And later, if Dean shared another passionate kiss with Castiel on the front seat of Deans car as he pulled up next to Cas’ house, well, that was their business.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave any questions, comments, suggestions, criticism you have, thanks!


End file.
